Sometimes the Joker Is the Real Joke

Some guys still don’t get it. Dodger pitcher-prankster Roger McDowell says he will continue to use firecrackers for practical jokes because he never uses those big, dangerous ones like that naughty Vince Coleman.

Evidently, Roger the Dodger has never heard of giving somebody a heart attack. I happen to know several people with weak hearts, some of them younger than I am. A superbly conditioned, 27-year-old athlete recently died from a weak heart.

And, when I hear loud bangs in Los Angeles or New York, I think gunshot . Some of us don’t like surprises.

So, go on, Roger. Have your fun. Be a regular Dennis the Menace.

Some day, when you’re standing before a judge or beside a casket, you can always say: “Honest, everybody, it was just a joke.”

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I once saw Kirk (Don’t You Dare Play Jokes On Me) Gibson creep up beside a station wagon parked outside Tiger Stadium at 3 o’clock in the morning. Inside the car was the wife of a Detroit teammate, sitting by herself, on a dark street.

The team had returned home from a Sunday game at Toronto that ran long. I was along for the ride. We flew to Windsor and took a bus to Detroit. But first we had to stop at Customs, where pitcher Dave Rozema smart-mouthed the inspector who boarded the bus, annoying him enough to drag out the inspection even longer.

Several wives and friends waited at the park to pick up their guys. Because it was so late and so dark and because it was not Detroit’s best neighborhood, the women remained inside their cars.

One sat alone. She perked up when the bus arrived. She waved at her husband as he got his bags. She turned a key in the ignition, illuminated the headlights and unlocked the passenger door.

Gibson sneaked behind the car on all fours. She kept looking out her window toward the bus. Gibson crawled toward the passenger side. Rozema watched, grinning like the fool he was.

Quietly, Gibson opened the passenger-side door. Rozema kept the woman distracted. Gibson sprang from the darkness, like a panther. “Boo!”

I’ll never forget her scream.

Gibson, Rozema and others laughed more loudly than her shriek. And she sure forgave him a lot more easily than I did. He’s lucky she didn’t recoil through a pane of glass.

What I won’t forget is veteran infielder Darrell Evans shaking his head in disgust and saying: “Class act, Kirk.”

That’s another reason why I never bought any of that jazz about Gibson demanding that his Dodger teammates “get serious” after one pulled an eye-black stunt on him in spring training. Good old game-face Gibby.

He was also the one who cackled after Rozema yanked a chair out from under shortstop Alan Trammell one night in Kansas City, on the eve of the season opener. Trammell sat flat on the floor, plop. Pretty funny.

Except that Alan--one of the true class acts in baseball--happened to be carrying a glass bottle of medicine in his hip pocket at the time. The glass shattered. Trammell was cut and couldn’t play on opening day.

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Practical jokes can be funny. Someone gets hit with a shaving-cream pie at least a dozen times per month during baseball season. Pretty harmless. Bert Blyleven pulled his hotfoots--hotfeet?--on teammates and Fernando Valenzuela was known to manacle them with handcuffs.

Jay Johnstone recently pulled a beauty on Doug Drabek, having police nab Drabek with “stolen” team uniforms inside the trunk of his car. The cops were in on it.

Tom Lasorda once slipped into Steve Sax’s hotel room with, of all things, a pig’s head. God knows where he got it. Lasorda placed the snout on Sax’s pillow, pulled up the blanket and slipped back out.

Picture yourself at bedtime, pulling back that blanket.

I never considered myself a wet blanket when it comes to fun, but to me that’s as scary as Janet Leigh thinking she was alone while she took that shower.

Winter Olympic teammates once pulled the same gag on skater Beth Heiden, sister of Eric. They borrowed a small shark from the fridge of some Norwegian athletes who had brought their own favorite seafood. Then they hid the shark in Beth’s bed.

Me, I don’t like surprises in bed. Well, you know what I mean.

I don’t much like surprises from friends, much less people I hardly know. Bret Saberhagen, another firecracker-flipper for the Mets, is amazed that reporters can’t take a joke. Hmmm. Maybe I’ll toss a firecracker on the mound next time Bret’s doing his job.

Walter Payton once goosed me inside the Chicago Bears’ clubhouse. I liked watching Walter play football. I liked the way he straight-armed tacklers. But I didn’t want him straight-arming me.

Pitcher John Candelaria recently stole infielder Juan Samuel’s American Express card from his wallet, then left it on the diamond for Juan to find. Now, this is a joke I like. Nobody got hurt.

But if Coleman, McDowell, Saberhagen or any other joker throws a firecracker anywhere near you, either call a cop or ask him how he would like to spend the next few months on the disabled list. Ha, ha, ha.